


Martinis, Monet and Misleadings

by Gin_In_A_Tin



Category: White Collar
Genre: Childhood Memories, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Forgery, Getting Back Together, Heist, Partners in Crime, Partners to Lovers, Planning a Heist, Resolved Sexual Tension, Robbery, Romantic Tension, Slow Burn, Sneaking Around, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26929546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gin_In_A_Tin/pseuds/Gin_In_A_Tin
Summary: World class con-artist Olivia Hastings really has her business in order. When she meets Neal, she unexpectandly finds a potential ally in him.Five years later they meet again. Will their partnership maybe last this time?Chapters alternate between their first collaboration and five years later.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Original Female Character(s), Mozzie (White Collar)/Original Female Character(s), Neal Caffrey/Original Female Character(s), Peter Burke/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. "Who are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place 5 years before Neal got out of prison and got his anklet.

"You know, they say that what a person drinks says a lot about them."

While I kept staring at my glass, I let out a slight sigh and rolled my eyes. Another lonely man looking for a hot girl during the days of the art auction. Put on a tight dress, sit at the hotel bar and the desperate singles, unhappily married or men who are just straight-out bored, will come running.  
I started stirring my martini with the olive, as I thought of something blunt to say. 

"Are you saying that I am dirty?" In the corner of my eye I noticed the stranger sitting down on the barstool next to me and I could hear him laugh to himself. 

"Oh I'm sorry, but who on earth enjoys dirty martinis these days?", he said. "And for the record, that drink looks like a perfectly classic martini."

Irritated, I looked up from my drink. As my eyes met his, I suddenly realized who this lonesome stranger was. Neal Caffrey. Neal freaking Caffrey. Thé Neal Caffrey was hitting on me. It seems that a tight dress even works for a world-renowned con artist.

A slight smirk might have appeared on my face. It's not that I am lacking male attention, if he was anyone else I would have rejected him on the spot. Just the fact that someone like him is interested in me. Let's say… it doesn't lower my self-esteem.

"Well, that might be because it is in fact a classic martini. I was just messing with you, dear.", I said, while I studied his face under my lashes. 

Following my response, there was only one way a con-artist could possible react: a smile. It’s the one thing that someone in this profession needs to know how to do. You basically smile for a living. As he was giving me his perfected million dollar smile, he extended his hand to me.

"Nicholas Halden, call me Nick"

Well, well, well. Would you look at that. I was wrong. While it does not happen often, it appears that it does happen. I misjudged this whole situation. Neal Caffrey was not hitting on me, he was trying to con me. Me! The best money forger in the world, who also finds a nice con or a fine art theft extremely enjoyable. The only reason that he didn’t know, who he was conning, is because my whole criminal empire was built around my anonymity. The one and only elusive Olivia Hastings. None of my business associates knew what my face looks like, and none of them ever would. Besides, this sustained anonymity made it possible for me to take on other roles, like that of Eleanor. A young, ambitious art seller at this yearly auction event. It would seem that my alias is that good, that even Neal Caffrey believes it. Little does he know, that I am here for the sole purpose of getting a hold of as many art pieces as I can. Same as Neal, apparently, or should I say 'Nick'.

The auction was the perfect yearly event to engage in certain criminal activities, without any repercussions. That means, if you picked the right sellers to con. For some, this event was the only time in the year, they could escape the boring reality of their lives and get horribly drunk, which was very convenient for art thieves. Either they wouldn’t remember what the hell happened, or they would have been too ashamed and too scared to say something. 

So here I am, sitting at the hotel bar, sipping a martini, pretending to be an art seller, on the hunt for the perfect victim, whilst being conned by Neal Caffrey. Correction, an attempt at being conned by Neal Caffrey. Now I could either go along with it and let him pay for another three drinks, or I could inform him of my real motives here, and perhaps form an alliance. An art forger, who is as talented as he is, is always welcome. Or, I could always do both.

"Eleanor, Eleanor Smith, pleasure to meet you Nick Halden." I shook his hand, while my face made a certain transition to a more, let’s say, flirtatious look. 

Carefully choosing my words, calculating every decision, I cautiously engaged in the conversation, while coming across as the flirty and amiable Eleanor. The most amusing parts of the conversation, however, were my attempts to corner his con. Only, at all of my attempts of getting at the loopholes of his deception, he managed to talk his way out of it. Naturally, I would not stop until I had him cornered. After talking to him for over an hour, it would seem that we both had found the equal to each other’s silver tongues. As hard as he tried to make progress to get access to the, well.. nonexistent, art of my alias, I managed to keep misleading him. And as hard as I tried to unravel his con, I didn’t get a step closer. After a while, I noticed that the conversation had become more genuine. Somewhere along the way, we had both forgotten, that we were actually talking to each other with a very specific goal in mind. We were genuinely laughing, drinking and having a pleasant time with each other. 

“No. Way. That is just not possible!”

“Yes! Yes, it is!” I said, with tears in my eyes from laughing, “His tie got literally stuck at the assembly line!”

“Oh man, I’m never gonna eat sushi at that restaurant again, I am far too keen on my ties” he joked, while gulping down his drink. 

“Well, the food was actually quite fine, those things are just a serious hazard.”

We both laughed, as we looked each other in the eyes. I took the last sip of my third martini and teasingly put the olive in my mouth, while the look in my eyes took on a hint of sultriness. 

"Can I get you another martini, perhaps a dirty one this time?" he asked, while he pointing towards my empty glass. With the motion his whole body slightly shifted towards me. As I suddenly caught a whiff of his cologne, his knee lightly touched my leg. It was like an electric pulse had gone through me. I felt my heartrate going up and all of a sudden the room temperature seemed to be a lot higher than 5 minutes ago. It was at this moment, that I realized that I had really gotten of track and had lost sight of my goal. I am here for art. This is the perfect opportunity to find my targets and I am letting it slip away. I looked up at him again for a second, almost a bit skeptical, as I was thinking through what I was gonna do. 

“Oh I see, you are trying to get me drunk here. Besides, who drinks dirty martinis these days?” I remarked, hoping he would be the one to make the decision to cut off the conversation. 

“It is certainly a lot more amusing to talk to me while drunk, an experience you wouldn’t wanna miss.” he said jokingly, as he placed his arm on the bar to support his head, without breaking eye contact. 

Damn, he is not gonna call it a night anytime soon. I should really use this evening wisely and find myself the perfect mark, but on the other hand this has been really enjoyable. Although, I haven’t been able to break his cover yet. Anyone who knows me, also knows that I will do everything to have the last word. Maybe I’ll just have to break it for him then. 

So I stood up to leave, smoothed out my dress and put on my coat. As I reached for my purse and looked inside of it to check if the key to my hotel room was still there, I made my final remark with a sophisticated smile: 

"Oh no thank you _Neal_ , I should really get going, you’ll get the bill right?"

Suddenly the energy shifted in the room. The smile he had on his face the whole evening transitioned to a more confused or puzzled look. As I walked past him towards the door, he grabbed my arm, forcing me to turn around. His grip was firm but in the same way gentle, and he pulled me towards him. Even with my 5 inch heels and him still sitting on the bar stool, I was too tiny to look him directly in the eyes. As he slightly tilted his head to look at me, he asked me with a lowered voice:

"Who are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." I winked at him, pulled myself away from his grip and as I left him startled at the bar, I went through the door into the cold winter air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments :)


	2. "What can I get you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place 5 years after chapter 1. Neal just got his anklet.

“One mocha latte with nonfat milk, that’ll be $3,75.” I gave the customer a forced smile, as I handed her the cup. “Thank you, have a great day.” 

If I didn't have a good reason to work here, I would have quit on my first day. All day, every day serving coffee, saying the same lines over and over again, wasting my smile to ungrateful customers. While I could understand, that some people might like this, this job just didn't have the excitement a con entailed. Luckily, I did have a good reason to be here. 

Lost in my thoughts, I tried to fit all the parts of the milkshake machine back together, after cleaning it. Suddenly I was struck by a familiar voice. 

"Do you think it was an inside job?"

"Well, it was either that or a cat burglar."

"Peter, don't tell me you are actually considering a cat burglar." 

"I'm guessing the person you're texting would definitely consider it."

I kept listening in on their conversation, while I tried to fix the milkshake machine. Inside job, cat burglar, they're probably talking about the robbery across the street. But why would Neal be interested in that one? As I gave up on the machine, there was just one little tube that didn't seem to fit anywhere, I turned around to the cash register. There he was, Neal. I hadn't seen him in 5 years, I heard he ended up in prison. But there he really was. He was still the same way I remembered him, with his fancy suits and his comfortable smile and his bright blue eyes. Of all the little shop and bars in NYC, he walked into mine. I would almost start to believe in coincidence, almost. As his companion, who, judging from their conversation, was named Peter, was about ready to order, Neal hadn't even looked up from is phone yet. 

"Gentlemen, can I take your order?" I said, as casually as possible. 

I watched Neal's reaction closely as the other man basically asked for plain old coffee. By the sound of my voice, he abruptly stopped typing the text message on his phone. It took him a second or two to actually look up, and make eye contact. After a moment of genuine confusion and also a little bit of astonishment, I saw him trying to hide his laugh, by touching his chin and rubbing his nose. So apparently this "Peter" cannot find out that we know each other. That, or it was the worst attempt at hiding that smile from me. 

As he contained himself, he looked me in the eyes, with a grin that I could not quite place. 

I forced myself to break away from his gaze, because it was getting very hot in here again. Somehow he was the only man I’d ever met that could do that to me. When I finished typing his friend’s order in de cash register, I turned myself towards Neal.

"What can I get you?"

As a response to my question, he stepped forward while rubbing his hands in amazement and looked down at my name tag. 

"Well, _Julie_ , can I just say what a great name that is ‘Julie’, is that short for something?" he asked grinning. 

I decided to play along with his little game. It took every fiber of my being, to not have the upper hand here. He had me in a place, where he could make me do anything, as he was the only one in this little shop, or probably the whole of NYC, who knew my name wasn't Julie. 

"No sorry it's just boring Julie" I said, while giving him a strained smile. My eyes however, still expressed a little bit of that flirtatiousness, like they did 5 years ago. Somehow we could share the same looks we did back then, despite not seeing each other for such a long time. 

He nodded in quite a sarcastic way, as he continued: "I would like an espresso, Italian roast." 

"Alright, coming right up." I said, as I enabled the chip-and-pin machine without breaking eye contact. He had a certain light in his blue eyes. 

As I started making the coffee, I could feel his eyes almost burn holes in back. 

"You know,..." he began again, when I, somewhat on purpose, interrupted him with the loud noise of the coffee machine. 

"Sorry, say again?" I said with a grin on my face, while one hand rested on top of the coffee machine and the other was placed on my hip. 

Though he didn’t let me get in the way of his teasing remarks. He took another step in my direction and placed his arms on the counter. He brought his gaze towards the coffee machine, while he fiddled with the box of napkins, as he continued:. 

"You know, there was a theft here at the museum across the street yesterday. A very expensive emerald was stolen. Nobody knows how the robber got in."

He said it with such intend in his voice, that it was just obvious. He knew. He knew it was me. To be fair, it wasn't that hard to figure out. Why else would I spend my time working in a coffee place. Perfect vantage point, perfect access, perfect alibi. Next to that, nobody knows how I got in, there is just no way this job could be tied to me. He knew that too. And he wanted me to know that he knew.

"Yes, I heard about that, pretty hard to miss all of the police cars. I hope they catch him, or her."

“We." suddenly the other man opened his mouth. 

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"Wé are gonna catch him, or her." he continued, "Special agent Peter Burke, FBI"

"Well well, the FBI here, then I guess that robber will certainly be caught." I remarked, giving the men a gentle smile, as I place their order on the counter. 

Alright Liv, relax. I have never been stressed about the FBI. I mean they have been on my trail for years now and they don't even have a name or a face. Just random jobs that can't seem to be solved, not even tied together. But now, now they have someone like me on their team. Like me, hell, that person knows all about me. With his knowledge he could lock me away for a long long time. But Neal wouldn't betray me, right? How on earth did he even become part of the FBI? It’s Neal. Last thing he would do is defect to the other side. Did he suddenly turn ‘good’ in prison?  
Anyway, as soon as I have fenced the painting, I will leave this hellhole of a café and they will never be able to find me in the whirlpool that is NYC. Except now that a cop knows that I work here, I can’t just disappear, that’ll be suspicious. Damn, I really have to think about this. 

"I'm certain we will." Neal answered, while still trying to contain his smirk.

As he reached for his cup of coffee, we locked eyes again. There was just a certain, indescribable familiarity in the way we looked at each other. Like we never fell out of touch. Like the world didn’t move on in those 5 years and we were still trying to con each other over drinks. 

"You know, what a person drinks really says a lot about them." I said.

Finally letting out that laugh that he had been trying to suppress, he replied "Are you saying that I’m Italian?"

"No, I'm just saying you're picky about your coffee and you know how to dress right." I said, while pointing at refined suit and hat, one that I actually hadn’t seen before. 

"Come on, Neal" Peter said impatiently. 

"Yeah coming", he answered back, without looking at him, "Here I believe you dropped this." 

He reached out to hand me a napkin. As I grabbed the napkin, he pulled back his hand and his fingers slightly brushed mine. He turned around and right before he went out through the door, he gave me a wink.

When he was gone, I finally looked down at the napkin he handed me. Of course, he had left me a message on it. 

_Fancy a martini?  
Tmrw, 8_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments :)


	3. "I want in"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter takes place one month after chapter 1. So this is again 5 years before their current meeting.

Impatiently, I kept pushing the elevator button. I know that the amount and the frequency at which the button is being pushed, really doesn’t matter. It’s just, I really want to get my feet out of these stiletto’s and have a glass of wine, or two. After a whole day of meetings and appointments, I am desperate for a little bit of rest, especially because they didn’t lead anywhere. Not one of the potential allies at the meetings were competent enough for the job. And man, did I want to do that job. 

After a while, which seemed like an eternity of waiting in the hotel lobby, the elevator was finally here. It had become really late, so the only one getting on the elevator was, well me. The moment the doors closed, I immediately took of my very uncomfortable heels, as I looked at myself in the mirror. There I was, standing alone in a hotel elevator at 01:30 am with my red bottoms in my hand. My eye shadow had become smudgy after a whole day of running errands. I specially chose purple to highlight my green eyes, but now it kind of looks like I got hit in the face, on both eyes. I ran my hand through my ginger curls and let out a sigh. The way my hair was parted now, a scar on my scalp became slightly visible. I got it a couple of years ago, when I tried to get a hold of the Mackay Emerald Necklace at the Smithsonian. Let’s just say, that little adventure did not go as planned and left me with two broken bones and of course this scar. It was actually one the few failures of my career, but certainly one that had left an impact.  
Then, suddenly I heard the elevator bell ring and the doors opened. Barefoot I made my way down the corridor to find my room. When I finally made it to my room and opened my door, I immediately noticed something weird. It might be past midnight, I might have excruciatingly painful feet, but my photographic memory never lets me down. That curtain was in fact slightly more closed when I left my room. Either housekeeping had been here and had forgotten to actually clean before they left, or someone else had been here. As I carefully walked through the tiny hallway of my room, I noticed a man sitting in my chair, looking out of the window. 

“You should come back tomorrow during the day, the view is a lot better when the sun’s up. You know, you can actually see stuff then.” I said, while trying to figure out who the hell was in my chair. I know a lot of people and judging from the back of this hair, this could be anyone. 

“I actually like it more at night, the city lights, the colors of the Empire State Building.” He said, while he turned his chair towards me. “Hello Mia.” 

As I let out a slight laugh, I threw my heels in a corner of the room and walked over toward the bottles of wine on the cupboard. I did my best to not look impressed by him but I might have failed at that one. Neal figuring out at which hotel I stay is not that praiseworthy, but him finding out one of my aliases, Mia, is actually quite impressive. Alright, it is very impressive, Mia is my best alias. Unlike my real name, Liv, which I use for my money forgery business, I use her, when I want to fence something.  
I didn’t actually choose the name “Mia” myself for that alias. When I came to New York, or the USA in general, I had to make a living for myself. And while waitressing at a cafe is a very good option for some people, it’s just not for me. I made a habit for myself to steal something, fence it and completely disappear into thin air for a while, while I planned my next hit. As you would say, I went M.I.A.. As other criminals had started noticing my mo., they started calling me Mia. And that, is how Mia was born. She became quite the celebrity in the criminal underworld, but I tried to stay as anonymous as possible. Hence my surprise, when I heard Neal say that name. 

Without asking, I poured him a glass of wine, and handed it to him. As he took the glass from me, I got another one and started pouring myself a glass, while I leaned against the cabinet. These little actions gave me the time to think. Am I gonna deny it, am I gonna admit it, am I gonna use my Taekwondo training? Is there even a point in trying to deny it, he is smart.  
As I put the bottle down on the cupboard with a clunk, I looked him in the eyes with a smile. 

“I guess congratulations are in order. Your figured it out.” 

“Why thank you, took me a month but it was worth it.” He said. Somehow the tone of this conversation was still light hearted, like the way we talked at the bar. 

“What do you want, Neal” I asked abruptly. I was tired and definitely not in the mood for games.

“Alright then, right to business I guess.” He reacted. 

He put his glass down on the coffee table and got up from his chair. As he stepped towards me, his facial expressing became more serious and he looked down at me. After all, that’s the thing about being 5’2 and not wearing heels. 

“I want in.” he said while looking me dead-serious in the eyes. His face didn’t change, when he saw me try to pretend that I had know idea what he was talking about. 

“I have been following you for a month to figure out who the hell you are. You seriously think, that I don’t know, that you have been trying to recruit a forger for a job? I also know that you haven’t succeeded. Come on, you’re a clever lady, you know I am perfect for it.”

Well well, Neal thinks he’s perfect for the job. He might be, but somehow this seems a bit too much like blackmail and a bit too little like a job interview to me. I chugged my glass of wine, after which I placed my glass on the countertop with a flourish. He is the one who thinks he has the upper hand, now it’s my turn.

“Neal, honey, sure you’re very likeable, but I don’t like people who try to get things by blackmail. So if you really want to go through with this ‘thing’ that you’re doing, you might want to keep an eye on a certain storage unit downtown.’ I said, while giving him an insisting smile, that basically meant: back off. “Yeah, you’re not the only one who has been studying up on someone.”

I’m sure I saw his face go blank for a second there, but he managed to uphold himself. 

“Now you don’t have to worry, I’m not gonna take your stuff and I’m not tell anyone where you store everything, let’s call it honor among thieves, shall we. That means, if you keep your little piece of information to yourself, aka my alias.” As I got to the end of my sentence we were both looking quite gravely at each other, that it seemed the room temperature dropped. 

Like this, we stood there, a couple of feet away from each other, both calculating what we were gonna do, both trying to figure out our next move. 

“Look Mia, I don’t know your actual name so I’m just gonna call you ‘Mia’, I think there is a little misunderstanding here, I wasn’t actually blackmailing you. Also, great to know that I’m gonna need to move my stuff.” He finally replied grinning.

There it was again. The playfulness that we had gotten used to, even though this was only our second meeting. It’s just something that was in the air. 

As he took another step in my direction, leaving only a couple of inches of space between us, he continued:

“Listen, I know you’re planning on stealing a painting and replacing it with a forgery. Judging from this flyer, that I found hidden behind your very mediocre hotel room painting, I’m guessing you’re planning on stealing that Monet painting that is gonna be exhibited in NYC next week.”

I shrugged, as I responded: “Are you gonna tell me something, that I don’t know?”

“You need a forger, I have done a Monet before, come on, this is a win-win situation.” 

He did make a convincing point. I am very careful about my business, yet he managed to figure it all out, that means he is smarter then half the lot I interviewed today, combined. Also, none of the other forgers I had spoken to were competent enough for this job. Neal, however seemed like he could in fact do it. 

I bit my lip, as my thoughts raced through my mind. 

“60/40” I finally said.

“Come on, you know that painting would fence for at least 10 mil” he insisted, “50/50, if were gonna do this, were gonna do it as partners.”

What to do, what to do… The silence seemed like an eternity. It was like you could hear my head racing. I kept looking at him, while I weighed out my options. 

“Fine” I said, as it almost seemed like the room was startled by the sudden break of the silence. 

“Partners.” I replied. I held out my glass while he got his, and we both clinked our glasses to celebrate our newfound partnership.

“To honor among thieves” he said with bright eyes.

“Santé” I responded. “Now get out” I said with well-meant smile on my face. He looked at me confused. “It’s 2 am, I want to have shower, I’m tired, I want to sleep, so please go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have my number” he said, while I walked him to the door.

“Honey, it took me two weeks to find the storage unit in which you keep all of your stolen goods, I’m sure I can manage your phone number, all right.” I opened the door and as I leaned my head against it, he walked out of my room. 

“See ya”

“Yeah, see ya”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments :)


	4. "What have you been up to?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place just after chapter 2. This is their current meeting.

I arrived at the hotel bar at exactly 8 pm, he wasn’t there yet. I hadn’t been back here since our first meeting. While his note might have been a little cryptic, I was sure I was in the right place. For me, well… us, there was only one place in NYC, where we would drink martinis. I looked around and noticed that every single thing was still the same like 5 years ago. The same fake plants, the same furniture, even the bartender didn’t change. And there it was, my barstool, the one I sat on, while I scanned the crowd for targets, while Neal tried to con me. Ever since that barstool, our relationship had undergone a fast and dynamic development. But it ended, as fast as it developed. This whole meeting gave me a feeling of nostalgia, that I hadn’t quite experienced before. Ever since I left France to start a new life here, I promised myself to never look back and always go forward. If something, or someone, didn’t work out the way I wanted it to, I left it. It’s a type of survival mode that I had gotten used to, call it self-protection. One of the souvenirs that I brought from my crappy childhood. 

Anyway, this nostalgia that I was experiencing, was quickly interrupted by an unfriendly “ma’am” of the bartender. I looked at him impatiently, raising my eyebrows as I was waiting for the rest of his words to come out.

“Ma’am, I believe a gentleman left this here, for me to give you.” He said, as he handed me a phone. 

It was a burner phone. One that would still work after throwing it against a wall, or dropping it into the ocean. Rolling my eyes, I pressed 1 for speed dial:

“So what, this is a scavenger hunt now?” I quipped. 

I heard him chuckle on the other side of the line. “Hello to you too.”

I turned my back towards the bartender, as I grabbed my purse. “Neal, dear, do I really have to inform you that women don’t like to get stood up.” The irony in my voice perfectly masked the fact, that I was actually a little bit disappointed by him not coming. 

“You could do that, if I was really standing you up tonight. But I can’t come to the hotel right now, so I had Mozzie bring down the phone, to see if you might be interested in meeting at my place instead.” He answered and kind of asked at the same time. This might be a special occasion, because if Neal wants something, he takes it, in his charming way. Asking nicely isn’t really what he does. 

“You are a demanding man, Mr. Caffrey.” I teased. “Does you not coming might have something to do with your Fed friend?”

“It might”. This whole thing started to sound a bit mysterious and secretive. 

“Is he gonna be at your place too tonight?” I continued.

“Do you really think I would invite a master criminal to place, when Peter’s gonna be there?” he remarked.

“Well you seem to be full of surprises these days, so a girl can never be too sure, can I?”

“No feds” he said assuring. Although Neal was one of the few people I actually trusted, I could never trust him 100%. Especially now, there has to be more to this than just a nice meet-up. The question is, am I gonna take the risk that his new friend poses, or am I gonna leave it here. 

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell you are doing with the feds anyway?”

“Come over and I’ll think about it.” 

“Fine, what’s the address.” I finally said, while I stood up to leave. 

“351 Riverside Drive”

“Alright, _à plus tard_ ” I hung up the phone and as I stepped outside, I closed my coat against the wind, while hailing a cab. 

_______________________________________________________

Damn. For someone who just got out of prison, this sure was a nice house. Although it is not really what I expected, I am not surprised. We are talking about Neal Caffrey, after all. Like I said, he could have anything he wanted with his charm. As I was about to ring the doorbell, the door opened. There he stood, in the door opening. He wasn’t wearing a suit, his hair was a bit fuzzy. One might say that I was a bit overdressed for the occasion, but then again, Neal knew that I always looked like this. 

He smiled at me. “You made it” 

As I stood on his porch, a big gust of wind blew the fallen leaves from the sidewalk onto the streets. My red curls were lifted by the wind and flew into my face. “Aren’t you gonna let me in?”

He stepped out of the way and gestured for me to come in. He led the way, as he went up the stairs towards his room. He turned around to check, if I was still following him. “I rent the room from a very nice lady, whose husband was a con-artist himself.” 

Impressed, I smiled back at him. There was a strange atmosphere between us, one that we had not actually experienced before. Things were always so easy and playful, but now it was almost a little awkward. 

He opened the door and let me in. I took in the room, while taking of my leather gloves and putting my purse on the table. He extended his hand to take my coat and while he hung it up, he asked: 

“Do you want something to drink?” 

“Well, I believe I was promised martinis tonight.” I said witty. The mood already became a bit lighter, as my remark broke the thin layer of ice, that had formed between us. 

“I don’t actually have vermouth, but I do have gin.” He said, while looking at his liquor cabinet. “I can put that it a martini glass for you, although I don’t think I own martini glasses, so it’ll have to be a wineglass.”

I looked at him smiling, maybe even a bit questioning. “Sure, what the hell, gin’s great.” I sat down at his kitchen table while he poured me some gin. “So, you and Mozzie are still thriving, how has he been?” I remarked.

“Oh you know, same old same old, I believe he has taken up pigeon fancieing as a hobby recently.” he anwsered grinning. 

Surprised, I took a sip of my gin. “Well…having a carrier pigeon around is always handy, I guess” I said, while my eyes met his gaze. It felt like his eyes were burning my retinas. 

“What have you been up to? ” he asked.

“Well, let me see, I’ve been running my business, enjoying the occasional forgery and heist and…hmm what was it again, oh yeah, I’ve not been in prison.” I grinned, while I brought the glass to my mouth again, and watched his reaction carefully. I could see the doubt in his eyes. Is he gonna tell me, is he gonna keep everything to himself. I surely wanted to know everything, so I kept looking at him instingly, trying to make his retinas feel burning.

“Yeah congrats on that heist, I know how much you like emeralds.” He anwsered.

Of course, he is changing the subject. I guess he doesn't want me to know too much about his affeliation with the feds. But the problem is, I really want to know it. Partly because I am just curious, partly because I need to assess the risk I'm taking by talking to him.

“That emerald has been on my list for a long time now, I've failed many times trying to get it.” I tried say stuff without actually admitting it. No way he was gonna hear ‘I did it’ from me. Now I could try to be subtle and lead the conversation towards the feds again, or maybe being blunt was the way to go here.

I started to lean back in my chair. “So, have they found anything?” I blankly asked. 

Grinning, he took the bottle of gin and started pouring again. “You really want to know don't you?”

He's playing games. I like playing games, but right now I'm not in the mood. I stopped leaning back in my chair and put my elbows on the table, as I my eyes took on a more serious look.

“Listen, Neal, I don't know how the hell you got Mozzie to go onboard with you, but unless I know what’s going on with you and the feds, I'm leaving.”

He slightly nodded, realizing that if he wanted me around, he'd have to tell me the full story. Not that he didn’t want to tell it, just, by telling me, his street cred could be endangered. Not that I was gonna tell anyone, but how was he supposed to know that. Like I said, we could never trust each other 100%.

“If you really want to know the full story, we might be here for a while.” He finally said.

I smiled. “Then let’s switch to another drink shall we, because if I'm gonna be drinking gin all night, tomorrow morning is gonna be very painful.” I got up and found a very nice merlot at his cabinet. With a clunck, I put the bottle in front of him on the table.

“Spill”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments :)


	5. "Almost"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after chapter 3. Again, it's 5 years before their current reconnecting.

The last time I went to a park was, well, I don't even remember. Surprisingly, it was actually quite relaxing. Just sitting on a bench near the water, listening to rustling of the leaves by the wind and to the chirping of the birds. I can understand why people would go here, I just can't find the time with my work. The sun was just up, it was still a bit chilly and misty and tiny drops of morning dew were visible on the grass. I Was intrigued by the way the sunlight hit the water, which made my eyes look greener and added a soft, golden glow to my hair. In the distance I saw parents play with their children on a swing set. Somehow I couldn't imagine what that must feel like. Just, the wind in your hair, your only worry being whether you could swing as high as last time. 

Lost in my thoughts, I was startled by a sudden hand on my shoulder. As I looked up, I saw Neal standing next to me, the sunlight reflecting in his bright blue eyes. 

“You're late” I remarked.

“I might be, but I brought coffee” he said, while giving me the famous Neal Caffrey smile. I couldn’t be mad at him for being late with that smile. Besides, sitting in the park for a while really seems to let me gather my thoughts. I should do this more often.

“I accept your bribe" I smiled. “Let’s go.” I stood form the bench and turned around to leave. Right before he followed me, I noticed him throwing a glance at what I had been looking at, the children at the swing set.

“What did you get me?” I asked curiously. 

“Well, I don’t know your coffee order, so I decided to go for some good old Italian roast espresso.” He said, while handing me my coffee 

I raised my eyebrow at him, as I warmed my hands on the cup. “You have been following me for a month and you haven't figured out what coffee I drink?”

“I did once see you come out of a Dunkin' with something that looked like an iced coffee, but I didn’t really think iced coffee was the way to go now.” he laughed “My friend kept watch of that shop for a whole week, hoping you'd return so he could follow you.” 

“Wait a minute” I put my hand on his arm and stopped walking. Looking at me a bit confused, he stopped as well. “Is that friend of yours maybe that little bald guy, who was birdwatching there for a week?”

The look on his face changed into one of a little boys, who just got busted for taking a cookie out of the cookie jar. “Ehm, that might have something to do with it.” he said hesitantly.

As I let go of his arm and continued my way, I let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought I was becoming paranoid, genuinely!” 

As we chatted and reminisced about how we studied and observed each other, not creepy at all indeed, we walked to the museum, for our first recon. Well, our first recon together. I had been eyeing that place for weeks now. Also, this week they finally started setting up and preparing for the exhibition. Now was our chance to take everything in. Where is the painting going to hang, where are the camera’s exactly, where will the guards be, where are the exits exactly? Half of these questions I already know, but you can never be too sure. 

Inside the museum, I held onto his arm, looking at the little map and flyer we got at the entrance, pretending to be a normal couple, who just wanted to see some art at a drizzly Tuesday morning. While strolling through the rooms of art and the exhibitions, I carefully locked all of the things I had to remember in my memory. 

As we tried to discretely get closer to the room the painting was gonna be displayed in, we passed a striking exhibition, ‘bank robbers around the world'. Ironic, given the fact that I’m here for recon. Of course, one of the first photographs was one of Bonnie and Clyde. They were standing in front of car, Clyde was lifting Bonnie, they actually looked really happy. I glanced at some of the other pictures, while making my way towards the other room. Suddenly, out of the blue, I froze, while Neal kept walking. My eyes were locked on a photograph of another bank robbing couple. ‘Jean and Madeleine Heroux'. They were leaning against a railing in front of the Seine, with the Eiffel Tower on the background. Unlike the picture of Bonnie and Clyde, this one was livelier, with the vibrant colors and the vintage style of that time. The man and the woman weren't looking at the camera. Rather, they were smiling at each other, as the woman was tucking a strand of red curls behind her ear, and on her finger, an emerald ring shining. I was so focused on the photograph, that I completely forgot all sense of place and time. Neal's lucky he's got a quick response time, or I might have actually given him a bloody nose, when he suddenly touched my arm to get us moving again.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on there, Rambo” he said laughing, as he grabbed my hand, that was about to punch him. Then he noticed my serious and unsettled face. “Hey, are you alright?”

As I saw his head starting to turn towards the picture, I quickly got myself together, cleared my throat to get rid of the lump in there and turned around to continue our mission. “Let’s go".

______________________________________________________

“So, when are you actually gonna tell me the plan?” Neal asked. He opened his umbrella and held it over my head, as we walked away from the museum.

“Yeah I guess, telling my ‘partner’ the plan, is quite an important part of the plan.” I remarked smiling. “Why don’t we go to my hotel, order food, and I’ll tell you all about it over lunch.” I hooked onto his arm, so that the both of us could use the umbrella.

“After all this time living here, you still live out of hotels?” he asked confused.

“Well, would you buy a house, if you could stay in a hotel suite for free?” I said, as I looked him in the eyes with raised eyebrows. “Plus, I’m on the road a lot.”

He grinned. “Somehow I’m not even surprised that you can pull off free.” He noticed that my tiny legs with my high heeled boots couldn’t quite keep up with his pace, while I was hooked on his arm. Being the gentleman that he is, he slowed down. 

I smiled as I let out a little sigh “I won it from the hotel owner in a game of poker, he really should have folded.”

“You play poker?” he actually looked a little bit surprised there. Like I wouldn’t be to play poker.

“I dabble”

After walking for a while, we finally arrived at my hotel. Before we went upstairs, I first walked towards the reception to get my mail. As the receptionist took a look at my mailbox, I checked to see if my ruby lipstick was still in place by my reflection in the glass of the key cabinet. And yes, this hotel still has actual keys. No way I’m staying in a hotel with electronic keycards, those things are far too easy to tamper with. Rooms with keys are a lot harder to get in to, unless your name is Neal Caffrey, of course.

“Thanks Jimmy, would you send up a selection of the lunch menu, please?” I asked, while waving him goodbye, as I walked towards the elevators.

When we got into the elevator, an elderly couple hesitantly entered after us. They were holding hands, both dressed to the nines with one tiny suitcase. 

“Albert, dear, you forgot to push the button for our floor.” the woman said. She turned herself towards us with an apologetic smile “He gets so clumsy sometimes.”

“Well dear, you are the one who forgot to write down the address of the hotel.” the man remarked.

“I guess it’s the old age.” She said, as she put her other hand on his hand as well. “We are on our second honeymoon to celebrate our 50-year wedding anniversary.” She said with such radiance, and with such a smile on her face, that it made me wish I would become like her, when I’m older.  
Her smile was very contagious, as I caught myself smiling as well. Maybe because I wanted what she had, but mostly because there was just such a positive energy coming from her, well the both of them. It just lit up the entire room, or in this case, the elevator. 

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Wow, 50 years, congratulations! Is there a certain secret I should know?”

The woman smiled gracefully. “Young lady, one thing that I realized after all of these years, is that you really are in a marriage together. Now that may sound thoughtless, but really live with each other, devote your time to understand each other. And I guess, you will be all right. Also, dancing, dancing really helps, especially the Twist.” The man took the hand of the woman and pressed a soft kiss against the back of her hand. “So how long have you been together?” the man asked. 

Neal and I were both a little bit baffled by the question. “Oh, we, er, eh we are not together. We …. just met.” Neal stumbled. 

“Albert, look what you’ve done, now these young people are uncomfortable.” the woman said. “Oh, I’m really sorry you just really look like you’re together.” the man continued, as the doors of the elevator opened. 

Right before the couple walked out I waved with my hand “Don’t worry about it Albert, we get that all the time.” I said, as I slightly smiled at Neal.

As the doors closed again, we were standing in the elevator alone, both looking straight-ahead. 

I couldn’t help but contain my smile “That was just cute.”

Neal turned his head towards me, raising his eyebrows “You got any plans of getting married any time soon?”

With a frown, I looked him confused in the eye. “You know what I do for living, do you really think I have a husband waiting for me in my hotel room.”

He shrugged. “Why not, I almost had it.”

I stared at him for a second with a raised eyebrow. “Almost.” At the moment the doors opened, I brushed past him, as we got out of the elevator. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments :)


	6. "What do they know?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter of the current time again.

“Alright, so, if everything goes according to plan, the next batch of money is gonna be finished in 2 hours. I need all hands on deck for this one, this is a big opportunity. If we do this right, we get a very good new client. Next item for today’s meeting is the ink. Gina, I’m gonna need you to talk to our supplier and make sure he gets the delivery right this time. And last but not least, there have been some complaints about the accuracy of the printers. If you guys think it’s necessary, we can increase the service checks to twice a week. We’ll see how that goes for a month. If it improves, we can instate it permanently. Alright, that's it for today. Let’s get printing, we need that money to be ready today.” 

As everybody got out of the conference room, I got behind my computer again. You'd say that with running a money forgery business, you spend your days forging money. That’s how I started of course. A nobody from France in a new continent, a new country, a new city. Still a bit naïve, still thinking everything is possible. In my circles, those are dangerous characteristics to have. There is nothing these people love more than taking advantage of the new girl. But not Philip. He was not like that. He was my mentor. Everything I know about forging money, I know from him. Well, not everything, until I made my own discovery. That one discovery, on how to perfectly fake the watermark, really changed the whole game of money forgery. It didn’t take long before I rose to the top of money counterfeiters. When Philip died, he was pretty old when I met him, I took over his business and expanded it. Ever since, my life has been less forging and more the actual ‘running’ of the business. Conference calls, logistics issues, counting the numbers. Never thought this would be my life. Definitely, what was going on now with Neal and the feds. What would he be doing right now? Trying to get rid of his anklet? Or maybe this time he is really trying to go straight and helping the feds with a nice heist, or a compelling fraud case. Would things change now that I’m back in the picture? 

“Liv?” 

By hearing my name, I jumped, as I was snatched away from my thoughts. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I tried to regain myself. “Oh hey, no it’s fine, what’s up?” I said, as a woman entered my office. She is my right hand in the company. When I say that I only trust a few people in this world, this woman is the one that I mean. She makes it possible for me to remain anonymous through all this, by meeting with new clients and talking to associates for me. One might wonder how she, being a soccer mom in the suburbs, got into this kind of business. Well, it has to do with her husband’s illness, his treatment not being covered by insurance and the system basically screwing her over. After working hard her entire life and seeing her pension savings crumble overnight, she has developed from driving an SUV to becoming a first-grade criminal. And she is good at it too. 

“You are still here? I was getting ready to lock up. You have been going over the numbers for hours now, you should really take a break.” she said. “Go home, have a glass of wine and a good night of sleep. We’ll finish the numbers first thing in the morning.” 

I looked outside to see if she was right. But yeah, she was. It had already become dark and I hadn’t even noticed. Even worse, it’s already past midnight, and I hadn’t even noticed. Somehow, she was always right, even though I hated it. Taking a break. I’ll sleep when I’m dead. But she was right. I am tired and my head just doesn’t work the way I want it to right now. 

“Thank you.” I said “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

________________________________________________

The next morning, I was walking my way to work with a coffee in my hand, and a bagel in the other. It was really early in the morning. The sidewalk was filled with men in suits and women in pencil skirts, making their way towards their offices in the big corporate buildings. I crossed the street and passed my favorite newspaper stand. I couldn’t help myself, but buy one. As I read the headline, I nearly fell backwards. 

“Monet stolen from museum in New York”

Damn. Damn. Damn. How could this be happening. The exhibition five years ago, was such a success that the painting was gonna be displayed there permanently. They still had no idea, it was a forgery, our forgery. And now, someone stole our forgery. This is bad news. The cops are gonna be looking for it, which means they might find the forgery, they might find the real painting or they might find both. Then there is also the possibility that the thieves figure out it’s not the real painting, and are gonna be looking for the real one. Either way, this is not good. 

I quickly scanned through the article, as I finally got to the good part. “The robbery is currently under the investigation by the white-collar unit of the FBI in New York.” Damn. That meant Neal. Well, well, who would have thought. Neal is gonna be investigating his own crime. Not exactly this one, unless he somehow managed to get rid of his anklet and steal our forgery. But that would just make no sense. My head was spinning, my thoughts were racing. How am I gonna get ahead of this. Neal, I have to talk to Neal. He knows what’s going on. 

Before I even noticed it myself, I had diverted my course. As I let my people know that I was not coming in today, I quickened my pace. Right, I have to call Neal. Gathering my thoughts, I grabbed the burner phone Neal gave me and pressed speed dial. 

“I’m guessing you are calling about are…. date?” Neal said. 

Either he has a very weird perception of the word “date” or Peter is with him. “I’m guessing you’re with Peter, can I talk?” I asked.

“Yeah sure”

“Alright, we need to talk about that Monet. Can we meet?”

I heard Peter talk to another woman at the background. Something about dog food? “How about lunch, I know just the spot. It’s close to a park, it’s perfect?” Neal proposed. 

“Alright, see you at noon.” There is only one place he could have meant. The park we met at, the first time we did recon together. As I put my phone away, I sat down on a bench, finishing my coffee and bagel. There is not much I could do now, before meeting Neal. He seemed awfully calm. Maybe he has to pretend to be calm with Peter around, or maybe he has an actual reason to not be anxious. Maybe I should reach out to my street contacts, or maybe not because that could be suspicious. Suddenly it struck me. Mozzie. He knows stuff, Neal talks to him and he has great contacts. As I got another burner phone out of my bag, I made my way towards the park. I could sit there for a while, and try to get a handle on this situation. It took me a great deal of work to get a phone number of Mozzie. He is very suspicious and careful, so not a lot of people actually have his number. After I realized that Neal and him were in NYC, I started searching. Could have just asked Neal, but where is the fun in that. It took me a week to get it, but then you have some. 

After hearing the phone ring three times I heard Mozzie picking up the phone. “What we've got here is failure to communicate.”

“Some men, you just can’t reach.” I responded.

“Miss Hastings, what a pleasure.”

Mozzie always made me smile, even when he didn’t try to. It was just something… something he did. “Hello to you to Moz. How have you been. I heard you keep pigeons now.”

“I hear you making fun of me. But don’t come knocking for a carrier pigeon, when all the phones are down.” he responded.

I grinned. “Well, I actually think it’s a great idea. You never know what could happen, right?”

“Exactly, be prepared for any worst-case scenario. Maybe a not so real Monet being misappropriated, which could ultimately be a lead to the two of you. Just know, that when you are wearing orange jumpsuits, I won’t be visiting. There is no way I’m coming out of there alive.” he continued.

“Great to know you have got my back. Anyway, have you heard anything?”

“I’ve got nothing Liv. The people that did this are not from here, or I would have known about it.”

“Hmmm, will you let me know, when you have found something?” I asked

“Fine. But let it be known, that back in the day I did not approve Neal joining forces with you, therefore I’m helping him not you.”

“Hey, hey, five years ago you were a lot more supportive of us, when we had just stolen the painting. What changed?” I asked indignantly

I could hear him shrug over the phone. “Have you ever thought about the fact that you leaving abruptly, might have not been desirable by all parties involved?”

I was genuinely a bit confused by this statement. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Never mind, I’ll let you know if I find something out.” he responded and he hung up the phone. 

Well, that was an unexpected short conversation. As I continued my way towards the park, I kept thinking about what Mozzie said. Were they really hurt by me leaving? It’s not like I didn’t say goodbye. But on the other hand, I didn’t explicitly say my goodbyes. Not that I wanted to leave quickly or anything, but I had my reasons. 

As I entered the park, I passed a group of smoking teenage boys, they abundantly whistled in my direction. Normally I might of said something about it, until they shut up and actually were sorry. But now, I was plunged in thoughts and just simply didn’t feel like wasting my breath on them. As I sat down on a bench, I noticed the same swing set from five years ago. Instead of red, it was painted blue now. Before our robbery I had intended to go to this park more often, but after, I didn’t give it much thought anymore. Probably because I didn’t have the time, or maybe because I tried to avoid Neal. I even moved to Portugal for a few months to do a couple of jobs. When I heard Neal got in prison, I continued my business in NYC. When we both went our own ways after the heist, something in me had changed. I don’t really know what it was, or how to describe it. Almost like I was… I don’t know. The one thing I did know, was that I didn’t want to come across him again. For a while at least, a prison sentence of four years seemed sufficient. But now that he is back in my life, I might regret not seeing him for such a long time. Our situation is not simple, we’re both criminals, one of them turned semi-good, both of us are risking a prison sentence at the moment. But besides all of that, it’s still just easy. The way we talk, the way we vibe, it’s all just laid-back, like the way we used to be. 

For a couple of hours, I sat and thought and contemplated and watched the children. It was very relaxing, almost therapeutic. At 12 pm sharp, I got up and made my way towards the entrance of the park. The group of teenagers had shrunken. There was only a guy with a skateboard, a guy who passed around the cigarette and a guy sitting on the railing. This time when I passed, they were a lot less noisy. 

It didn’t take long before I saw Neal appear at the corner. He looked calm as ever, maybe just a little bit in a hurry, but not at all anxious, like he could go to jail at any second. This time, he was wearing one of his familiar suits, no hat. As he walked towards me, I noticed a certain swagger to his gait. He had always walked next to me, instead towards me, this was the first time I could actually observe him walking. Somehow, everything this man did was sexy in its own way, even his walk. When he finally arrived, he grabbed my arm and pulled a bit more out of sight, before I could say anything.

“Alright we don’t have much time, cause Peter just called. He is on his way over here to pick me up so that we can go to the museum again.” he quickly said, although it was more like rambling. 

“Okay" I said, as I was trying to not get distracted by his hand still on my arm. I am always very professional and very good at separating business from pleasure. But with him, it’s just different. 

“So, bring me up to speed. What do they know?” I asked.

“For now, they don’t have a clue who the robbers are. The painting has not appeared at the black market, at least not that the FBI knows off. I'm trying to divert them and make sure they are not getting much closer, but it’s already getting harder. Peter wants me to go with him to the museum and show him how I would have done……. I’ll see you next time then!” Out of the blue he got a smile on his face and the tone of his voice changed. As he grabbed on my waist, I noticed Peter approaching in the corner of my eye. He suddenly pressed me against him and whispered in my ear.

“Don’t worry, there is no reason yet to start picking out our orange jumpsuit. I’ll keep you posted Livvie.” 

Livvie. Damn, he hasn’t called me that in ages. It really sends me mind back to 5 years ago, and he knows that. His muscled body pressing against mine and his lowered whispery voice sent my heart racing. The side of his face touched my cheek as he talked in my ear. I could feel his stubbles and smell the scent of his aftershave. All of it was so familiar, that I wanted to stay there like that for a bit longer. As he started pulling away, he pressed a kiss against my already flushed cheek. After this whole façade for Peter, we finally locked eyes again. His eyes, his beautiful eyes, his scent, the kiss still burning on my cheek. I just couldn’t focus, like he sent me to an alternate universe for a second. Everything around me was fuzzy, all I could think about was me, pushing him against the wall next to us, and kissing him. This moment took only a few seconds, but for me it felt like ages. It had been such a long time since a man made me feel this way. He knew exactly what strings to pull, to get my like this, which basically was a puddle of me swooning for him. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Peter said.

The question suddenly made me snap out of my state of mental paralysis. Right before Neal turned around towards Peter, he playfully winked at me. Like he was confirming me, that he knew exactly what he was doing. 

“Peter, hey, you’re already here.” he said. I noticed that he tried to sound surprised. It was quite convincing. Except Peter didn’t really look convinced. I guess with Neal, you should always be on your guard and he knew that too. 

As I created my best ‘good-girl' smile, I extended my hand towards Peter. “Hi I’m Julie” I tried to look like I slowly started to recognize him from the café. “Oh hi, you are the FFB-agent, aren’t you, the one who was investigating the robbery across the street of my café?”

The ruse seemed to work. He already looked a bit convinced, but maybe also flattered that I remembered him. 

“Hi, yes that is me.” he said while pointing towards himself. “The two of you know each other?” he asked, while mostly looking confused at Neal.

“Yeah, I returned to that café a couple of days later to get a coffee and we really hit it off that time.” Neal said, as he put his arm around me.

“Ahh" I could see that Peter had trouble believing the story, but also that he couldn’t really make anything else of it. This little act might not hold up for long, but maybe long enough for us to figure things out with the painting. 

As he checked his watch, Peter gestured at Neal to get moving. “Well, Julie, nice to meet you, again. I hope I’ll see more of you. Come on Neal, we have to get to the museum.”

As we both quickly said our goodbyes, I watched the two of them walk off. Neal having the same swagger in his step, like before, just even more sexy this time. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments :)


	7. "It's Liv"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right after chapter 5.

“We’ll get out from this side of the building, with the painting hidden in the catering box. If everything goes according to plan, they won’t have a reason to be suspicious because nothing is missing and we will be nothing more to them than two people who are supplying the museum restaurant.” I looked up at him from the plans. We were both standing over the floorplan of the museum on the table. Around it, the table was covered in food and drinks, enough for the two of us to last till dinner. I tried to lock eyes with him, waiting for his response about my plan. It appeared I could be waiting for a while, as he was still looking at de map.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “So…. What do you think?”

“Well” he cleared his throat, after a moment of silence. He started pointing at the paper on the table. “I’m certainly impressed, but I’m just thinking about this camera at the…”

“Hold on a second, dear” I interrupted him. “When I say, ‘What do you think?’ this is your cue to start praising my flawless plan and complementing my rare intelligence.” I said teasingly. “I have thought of this plan for a long, long time. Do you really think you can improve it?” I was standing at the head of the table, leaning on both of my arms as I he finally met my eyes. 

Grinning, he picked up his plate with something that looked like rice. “Like you need any more praising. It seems you praise yourself enough, for the both of us.” I could see this teasing twinkle in his eyes again, as he brought his fork to his mouth. “But hey, if you don’t want to know how to improve your perfect plan, be my guest.” 

I stopped leaning on the table, straightened myself, and simply smiled at him while raising an eyebrow. “Fine, I’ll bite. What’s wrong with the camera.”

He put down his plate, looking awfully content with himself. “I’m so happy you brought up that camera.” I might have rolled my eyes a bit at this point. 

He continued “You want to interfere with all of the camera’s separately. That’ll work, but what if you don’t interfere with the camera’s itself, just with the storage of the data.”

“You can’t do that. You need central access for that and there is just no way to get in there. Trust me, I have considered everything.” 

I tried to point at the room on the map, the one I was talking about, but I was just too short to reach it. Extending my arms, to try and reach it, I ended up laying flat with my torso on the table with dangling feet. I tried to crawl up, but with all of the food around me, it was not as charming, as I always tried to be. As I was struggling, Neal extended his hand to me, to help me up. It all looked a bit clumsy; you try to move around like this in a pencil dress. As I finally sat straight-up on the table, I was about to reach for Neal’s hand to get off the table, but before I could, he grabbed me by my waist, lifted me of the table and gently placed me next to him. Unlike my clumsy movements, him lifting me was very swift and smooth. When I was standing with my feet on the floor again, his hands stayed on my hips for a moment. We were only standing a few inches away from each other, locking eyes, me with my hands on his arms, which I seemed to have grabbed during the lift. I tried to catch my breath, as I was getting lost in his eyes. I noticed his pupils dilating, his breathing becoming shallower. His hands on my hips were becoming warmer and warmer, almost like they were burning through my dress. He wasn’t the only one who had trouble regulating his temperature, as I could feel my cheeks flushing. 

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “Have you…considered…” he cleared his throat again. This time we both kind of snapped out of the whole situation. “Have you considered letting them doing the work for us. Then we don’t have to get in there at all.” he repeated, as he released his hands from my hips. 

I blinked a few times before my mind was fully back. “I’m listening.” I said, as I turned my back towards him to try to get my breathing under control, while I was pretending to be choosing some of the food on the table. 

__________________________________________________

“Raise”

“Raise? Seriously? You barely have the money for that.” I said laughing. I was crushing him at poker. It’s a great way to spend a Tuesday evening, really cleaning your opponent out, to the bone. We had moved towards the couch. I was sitting in front of the couch on the floor at the coffee table, as he was sitting in the same chair he sat in, when he had broken into my hotel room. My heels were laying in a corner somewhere again, he had taken of his jacket and had rolled up his sleeves. We had kind of forgotten the moment from before. After we had gotten to an agreement about the plan and about the whole thing with the camera’s, we were just comfortably playing poker and drinking wine.

As he was counting his chips, to try and make his raise work, I kept staring at him, while I played with my poker chips. I had enough of them. “Alright, I’ll make you an offer” I said “You get to raise now with your remaining chips and if you lose, you tell me about the time you ‘almost’ had ‘it’.” I could see on his face that he knew that I was referring to our conversation in the elevator earlier this day. 

“What do I get if you lose?” he responded.

“Oh honey, if I lose, you get my chips, that’s is how the game works.” I was teasing him, knowing very well that he knew how to play poker. He was even quite good at it, just not at as good as I was. 

He smiled. As he checked his cards again, he looked me suspiciously in the eyes. “How about, if you lose, you tell me why the picture at museum upset you.” 

I was hoping that he hadn’t noticed that, but the chance that he hadn’t seen the actual tears in my eyes was like zilch. I didn’t like his terms of the deal, but it did make the game a lot more interesting.

“Okay, let’s do it.” It was not like was gonna lose anyway. I perfectly kept my poker face, as I flipped around the river. Neal, however, was not as successful at not showing his joy. With a flourish, he turned around his cards. 

“I got the inside straight.” he said grinning.

I looked at his cards. “Damn, that’s a good hand” I said, while taking a breath “Sadly, not good enough. Flush.” I could see the disbelieve in his eyes. 

“There is no way you get three flushes in a row. Are you cheating?” he said while he grabbed my cards to check them. 

I picked up my wine glass and got up to sit on the couch. “Maybe now is a good time to tell you that I have a photographic memory.” I said while taking a sip of my wine. 

He threw my cards back on the table with a smile on his face. “I would say there was a more ideal moment for that piece of information.” He started to lean back in the chair and ran his hand through his hair. After a whole day, his hair had become fuzzier and a bit wavy, which made him look younger. 

“Well, time to hold up your end of the bargain. Almost?” I looked at him. I could see that he was not entirely comfortable talking about it. “What was her name?”

He sighed “Kate”. He reached for his glass of wine and looked at it while he continued. “I really screwed it up. Tried to con her, she left, it tried looking for her but she just really doesn’t want to be found.” His expression became a bit dejected. 

“I'm sorry Neal. Maybe she just needs some time. If you are really “it” for each other, you can’t give up.” I answered. 

“Maybe… What about you? Did you ever almost had it?” he asked.

“Oh, I had a boyfriend back in F… “I stopped myself as I realized I had gotten too comfortable. But on the other hand, it is not like he could do a lot with the information, that I am originally from France. “Back in France. But when I came here…, nobody really serious.”

He looked at me a bit confused. “You are from France? You really don’t hear that by your accent.”

I shrugged, while I set my glass on the table. 

“Wait a minute” He looked at me like he had just discovered something great. “The picture.” he said. Damn. I knew exactly what he was gonna say. He really is smart. How the hell did he figure all that out from a picture and France. But then again, it’s not the first time he figured things out about me with very scarce information. I guess I should have known, but with Neal I seem to be less on my guard then with anyone else. He really can’t know. No one knows. No one can know, not even Neal. 

“Hold on there, I won poker. You do not get that my answer on the picture.” I said, as I tried to laugh away this situation. I’m a good liar. I just never had to lie about this before, because nobody freaking knew. So, I just didn’t know how to lie my way out of this one. Goddamnit, stupid picture. 

He got this stupid smile on his face; he was really on to something. He was not gonna let this go. “You are Olivia Heroux, thé long lost daughter of Jean and Madeleine Heroux. The couple in the picture are your parents.” He saw at my face that it was true. He also saw that, for the first time since he knew me, I was truly vulnerable. No smirks, no teasing comments, no trying to get the upper hand, no games. This was my life; my biggest secret and it was all in his hands. My face had changed to anxious in a very short amount of time and Neal was actually shocked to see me like this. I felt naked. Like he was directly looking into my soul. I always had my façade, my aliases my cons. But now, I had nothing and he, he knew everything. I tried to come up with something smart or witty to say, but I completely shut down. I reached for my glass of wine, when I noticed my hands were shaking. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed, Neal was looking at my hand too. As he was trying to understand what was happening here, his eyes kept switching between my eyes and my trembling hand. Suddenly, he stopped leaning back in his chair and grabbed my hand. 

“You don’t have to worry, I’m not gonna tell anyone.” He tried to reassure me.

I started shaking my head. And looked up at him. “That’s what everyone says.”

He put his other hand on my hand too. “Olivia, or whatever I have to call you now, the past is the past, your past. I have no interest whatsoever of telling anyone your story. That is yours to tell, or to keep hidden. Really, you don’t have to worry.” He said while giving me a calming smile.

We just sat there for a minute. Him holding my hand, me getting my thought together and trying to figure out what to do next. 

“It's Liv” I finally said “Liv Hastings, I changed my last name to Hastings.” I could see the amazement on his face. He realized that he didn’t have just the disappeared daughter of a famous bank robbing couple in front of him, but also world’s best money forger. I might as well tell him the whole story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments :)


	8. "Thanks Neal"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A current day chapter again.

Choosing a dress for an event has always been difficult for me. Now, however, it almost seems impossible. Am I gonna go for the velvet red dress, or is it too adventurous? Is the black halter dress too simple, or maybe I should go for the green satin dress? You can never go wrong with emerald green. But what if Neal wears something blue. Oh wait that’s not possible, tonight is black-tie. Also, what shoes am I gonna match it with. 

I might have stood like this in my walk-in closet for an hour now, wearing my robe and with rollers in my hair. I have gone to events like this before, I know what people wear, it’s just… Neal. I have never actually gone to any of these things with him. Although, tonight is not for pleasure, just business. The two of us are gonna be sneaking around again, just like old times. When I heard the Monet had been found again, I was glad at first. But then I realized, that we don’t know which one had been found. Is it the real painting, or our stolen forgery? It better be the forgery, because the real one might be traced back to me, well us. The fact that it is being displayed tonight as a celebration for the return of the painting, means it has been authenticated. That could mean that it is the real one, but Neal’s forgeries are that good, that it can pass authentication. We have to know which one it is, so that we can prepare ourselves. Hence my troubles finding a dress for tonight’s event. 

As I heard the ring of my doorbell, I realized that I really had to start choosing a dress. Luckily my hair and make-up were already done, well almost done, as I quickly removed the rollers from my hair. 

“Neal” I said as I swung open my door. “You’re early, also nice tux.” 

He smiled as he leaned against the doorpost. “Thanks, I would say the same thing, but I’m guessing this is not your final outfit.” he said, while gesturing at my robe. I looked down and quickly closed my robe, as I noticed that my bra was slightly visible.

“Why don’t you come in, while I finish up.” As Neal made himself comfortable at the liquor cabinet, I got dressed. “So what’s the plan for tonight?” I yelled from my closet. 

“Well, I managed to get an invitation for Nick Halden. The painting is gonna be displayed in the first 2 hours. After that it will be taken to a back room. Now I will have to take a close look at it, so the backroom is our best shot, I think.” he answered while waiting with his back turned towards me.

“Okay, so how do we get in there? I’m not too familiar with that place.” I answered.

“Yeah me neither, I guess we’ll have to improvise.”

I opened the door of my closet. “Well, we’re not too bad at that.” I said as I looked at him. 

The moment I stepped out of my closed, I swear, I could see his jaw drop for a second. In the end I decided to go with the emerald green satin dress. It was a sleek dress, with a split in the front and an open back, exposing the freckles on by back. I had wanted to wear this one for ages, but never really found the right occasion. A slight smile graces his lips, as he looked me up and down in my dress. 

“You do clean up quite nice.” he tried to say it casually, but it didn’t really come out like that. He almost sounded a bit... impressed. I couldn’t help but smile at him. Who doesn’t like to be appreciated, when they dress up for a special night? 

“Are you gonna wear your new emerald necklace with that?” he continued. 

I remembered the conversation we had, back at his apartment. I never actually admitted that I was the one, who stole the emerald. I could keep that to myself for a little while. But it would seem, that not being able to keep secrets for Neal is a recurring motive in my life. Why would I even keep trying, it is kind of becoming embarrassing.

“I don’t think it’s the best idea to wear a stolen item in a room full of people, who are pretty up-to-date in the art world.” I decided to keep it just vague enough. “Shall we go?” I said, as I grabbed my clutch. 

_____________________________________

Once we were inside of the building, we could already hear music coming from the party hall. You could hear they hired a live band, playing something that sounded like jazz. Before we were about to open the door towards the party, we shared a quick look, almost a “good-luck” look. At the moment we walked through the door, he flattened his hand against the small of my bare back. It was such a familiar and regular movement, that it shouldn’t mean too much to me. But I couldn’t shake the feeling, that it was different that before. His touch felt electric, making my whole body tingle. The only thing I could think about, was where his hand was, or rather, where I wanted his hand to be. As I could feel my temperature rise, I quickly took two champagne glasses of the tray of a passing waitress. Partly to get rid of the hand on my back, but mostly to remind myself that this evening was business, not pleasure. The fact that I was about to drink champagne does not plead for that, but at least it distracts me from Neal. 

I handed him a glass of champagne and pointed towards the Monet. “Look at that, the prodigal son has returned.” It was right there, just 10 feet away from me. Next to the fact that it was a very beautiful painting, seeing it also brought back a lot of memories. Neal and I, together, planning a heist, executing a heist, doing a lot of other stuff, but also, the reason that I left. 

He took a moment to take in the painting. “It a real beauty, isn’t it.” he answered. “Should we go take closer look?” he asked, while turning towards me. He extended his arm, for me to hook on to him. 

I smiled at him, clinked my glass against his and started to make my way to the painting on my own. No way I’m gonna let him distract me with his… arms, his very beautiful, muscled arms. Liv. Focus. 

“Can you make out if it’s ours?” I remarked, when he caught up with me. 

“I really have to take a look with a magnifier to see that.” he said. I kept staring at the painting for a little while, thinking about all of the things it brought me. Years later it is still bringing me trouble, was it really all worth it? It did bring me Neal. In the corner of my eye, I noticed that his focus had shifted form the painting towards my face. I met his gaze. For a second, he avoided my eyes, but it didn’t take long for him to lock eyes with me again. Liv. Focus. I looked past him and saw a something that looked like a que for the painting. 

“Let’s go, people are waiting.” I said, while I slightly pulled at his sleeve. As we moved away from the painting, the band started to play a slower song. We could see people starting to move towards each other and starting to slow dance. We were kind of trapped between mushy couples. I could already see what was going to happen here, but there was no way I was going to dance with Neal Caffrey, no way. Some things are just too close. 

Oh dear, here it goes. Neal extended his hand to me. This was the moment, that I gave him my best ‘Are you serious?’ face.

He took my drink, put it with his own on a tray and grabbed my hand. Which caused me to give him an even more ‘Are you serious?’ face. 

“Alright Livvie, we either dance or we go look at the painting again, because people who stand on the side and do nothing are suspicious. Also, need I remind you, that the man in the grey suit standing near the painting, is actually with the FBI. We might want to avoid him.” he said. How the hell does he always know, how to convince me. 

He pulled me closer and put his hand on my lower back. It was a bit like the other day at the park, only this time he was touching my bare skin. Despite my heels, my head didn’t get close enough to his face, which kind of forced me to rest my head on his shoulder. As I could feel this situation becoming quite hot again, I decided to put the focus back on the plan. 

I raised my head, to look him in the eyes. “Any ideas how we’re gonna do this?” Right after I asked this, he spun, to make sure I was looking in the other direction.

“Do you see the second door on the right?” I nodded, at which he continued. “That one leads towards the hallway with the backroom. That door is gonna be closed, but the first door on the right leads towards the kitchen, which also gives access to the hallway.”

“We just need a good reason to be in the kitchen.” I answered. “I’ll just go in there, create a diversion for you to sneak past them.”

“That could work. What are you gonna complain about?” he asked grinning.

“Oh, I’ll figure something out along the way. After that I’ll just ask to use the bathroom and I’ll see you in the room.” 

“Sound like a plan.” he said. At that moment, the band started to play a more up-tempo song. Before I could say anything, Neal stepped back, twirled me around and firmly pulled me back to him. I had to grab onto his arms, to not crash into his chest. The sudden movement caused my pulse to raise and my heart to really get pumping. Somewhere along the way a genuine smile had formed on my face. It would seem that having fun isn’t all too bad sometimes. I looked up at him, and he looked down at me. I could feel his elevated heartbeat, or maybe it was just mine. For a second, I thought that our heads were actually starting to get closer towards each other. 

The moment was interrupted by the loud opening of the doors. We let go of each other, as we watched how the painting was carried out of the hall. 

“It’s time.” I said. 

_____________________________________

Quietly, I made my way down the hallway, carefully trying to figure out which room was the room. One of the doors of the rooms was left ajar. Neal was there. I quickly opened the door, and closed it behind me. 

“How did it go?” he asked.

“Oh no worries there, all very smoothly. The kitchen people are very nice, always in for a little chat apparently. Anything on the painting?”

A grin appeared on his face. “It’s the forgery.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God. Let’s get out of here.” My state of excitement was quickly disturbed, by the sound of thumping in the hallway. I could hear low voices coming closer towards the room. 

“I thought you might want to see the painting in private.” A man said.

Anxiously, I looked at Neal. We were trapped. Both looking around in the room, to find a place to hide, my eye fell on a giant closet. 

“In here.” I quickly said. I got into the closet, as Neal quickly put everything back the way it was. He followed me into the closet and closed the door behind him. 

“Did you…” I tried to finish my sentence, but as I was speaking, the people from the hallway entered the room. As a reflex, Neal put his hand on my mouth to shut me up and pushed me against the wall of the closet. We both tried to slow down our breathing, after the hurrying. With all good intentions, slowing my breath wasn’t all that easy. Currently, the situation was, that I was very much pressed up against Neal, whose hand was on my mouth. It was dark in the closet; I couldn’t see his face. I smelled his cologne, the one that was so familiar to me. With my chest pressed against his, I could feel his heartbeat in my own body. His breath, shallow and fast, touched my face, as a little breeze. I tried to listen, to what the people in the room were saying, but all I could focus on, was the immense heat Neal’s body radiated, while he cornered me in the closet. He released his hand on my face slowly and he carefully placed it in my neck. His other hand on my back, slowly lowered and lowered. I could hear his breathing become faster and more ragged. He moved the hand in my neck and placed it on my chin and he slightly stroked my lip with his thumb. At that moment I couldn’t handle the heat anymore. As I grabbed his tie, I pulled his head towards mine. Our faces were not even an inch away from each other. Knowing we couldn’t make a sound, our faces hovered in front of one another for a moment. I placed my hand on his chest, his heart almost beating out of his chest. Through the darkness, I tried to make out the features of his face his blue eyes, his cheekbones, but I could only feel his warmth. 

Suddenly a loud blow, both startled us so much, that we all immediately pulled our hands back. We heard the men leave the room, as they locked the door behind them. Not fully realizing what had just happened, we started to recover, while we burst out in laughter. As we opened the door of the fresh air filled the dampened closet. Neal got out first, after which he helped me get out too. For a second, we both stood in front of each other, in silence, both red cheeked. 

After a while, we both started clearing our throats and moving towards the door. 

“Right, let’s go.”

After the event, we were both waiting outside for a taxi. The autumn wind came up again, causing me whole body to shiver. Before I could say anything, Neal put the jacket of his suit around me. 

I smiled gently at him. It was just a little awkward. “So, I don’t think we have to worry about the painting anymore.” I started. 

“I guess you should say I was right.” he answered. “No need to pick out an orange jumpsuit.” I kind of ignored his statement, as I saw a cab coming up. I quickly hailed the taxi, as I took of his jacket.

“Thanks Neal.” As I handed him back his jacket, I got on my toes, and pressed a soft kiss against his jawline. 

Damn it Liv. Should have focused.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments :)


	9. "You okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter about 5 years ago

“Could you pass me the Van Dyke brown? It's the one with the…”

“I know which one it is, smart ass.” I have forged a painting or two back in the days. Might not have been very good at it, but I do know the basics.” 

It hadn’t taken long for us to make a solid and airtight plan for the robbery. Two professional and highly experienced con-artist on the same side to steal a very nice painting, no way that could go wrong. Or it did already go wrong, kind of. Not with the plan of course, that was going smooth as ever, but the part where we are and stay ‘professional’ got kind of blurry. This man in front of me, mixing different colors of paint on his palette, figured everything out about me, in only a few days. Things about myself that I have been hiding for over ten years. The fact that he knows is actually quite refreshing. Normally I would never say thinks like ‘ I have forged a painting or two back in the days’, but he already knows. He knows about my past. Hence, my fear that this professional collaboration is less professional than I intended it to be. 

“Would you like to hold the brush then?” he answered. He looked up from his palette with this usual teasing look on his face. He wasn’t wearing his usual suit, rather an old grey t-shirt smudged with stains of paint. The way the morning sun hit his face made him look almost innocent and quite boyish, in an odd way. His hair a bit fuzzy, sun reflecting in his bright blue eyes, he was almost an artwork by himself. 

As I smoothened out his hair with my hand, while handing him the tube of brown paint with my other. “Dear”, I smiled “The sole purpose of you being here, is the fact that you, unlike me, are able to forge Monet. That is why I’m paying you, remember.” 

He raised an eyebrow, as he put his paintbrush down. “Yeah I remember it very well. We agreed to split the money. As partners, remember. Oh wait, stupid of me to say, you have got perfect recall. Of course you remember.” For a second we locked eyes and didn’t pull away. As if the person who breaks the gaze, will lose the non-verbal fight we were having. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. He was bloody right; we were partners. Trying to be the bigger person, I sighed. 

”Shouldn’t you start painting then?....” A slight smile formed on my face. “…partner”, I added. 

He really was talented with a brush. In only a couple of hours he had already finished the broad outlines of the painting. During that time there was a sense of serenity in the room, that I had never quite experienced before. It was kind of like the morning in the park, but then in a domestic setting. The morning sunlight lighting up my hotel room with a warm glow, as only the sun could do. It was quiet; not complete silence though. The slight bristling of a paintbrush against a canvas, the chirping of birds and of course the soft clicks of the keys of my laptop. Even though I am planning a master robbery, business as usual has to go on. E-mails have to be sent, meetings have to be scheduled, research has to be done. I didn’t get that much work done though. The sight of a painting Neal was far too distracting. So much for keeping everything professional. Although, it was just looking. Looking at his tiny brushstrokes, the precision, the concentration. How he squints his eyes to look at what he’s painted. The way he checks every color with the images of the real painting. Just.. the way he paints. Almost like a ritual. Like something that he does every day, and he is letting me in on this ritual. Showing me how he does it, how he is so bloody good at it. 

This state of calmly observing every movement he makes went on for hours. I didn’t even realize so much time had passed, until he put down the brush and started stretching his back. This was my cue to quickly start typing my emails again, as I didn’t want him to know how intrigued I was by his craftmanship. In the corner of my eyes I saw him checking his watch and turning towards me. 

“We should get some lunch.” He stated. He clearly sounded tired after concentrating for such a long time. As much as I loved to get lunch, I couldn’t get my sarcastic comments under control. 

“I don’t know, should we?” I responded. 

He scratched his jawline, while he started to clean the paint of his brushes. “Well, I’m gonna get lunch. You can tag along if you want to.” 

On the one hand I am hungry and I am really in the mood for some food. On the other however, Neal knows far too much about me already. Spending more time with him only increases the risk of screwing up everything that I have worked for. Like he is the sun and getting close makes me at risks to getting my wings burned. But then again, it is just lunch. Maybe I am overthinking all of this way too much. But overthinking got me to where I am now; running a very successful criminal empire. You can see my dilemma. 

After a moment of contemplation I decided to close my laptop. “You have got any ideas?” If I can’t even go to lunch like a normal person. What life am I living?

_________________________________________________

“Okay, I have to admit. When you said ‘lunch’, I had something a little different in mind than eating a hotdog in a park.”

Neal laughed. He handed me my hotdog, while giving a very generous tip to the food truck owner. “You really should not underestimate the culinary impact of a good hotdog.” 

I examined the roll he had just pushed in my hands. “Now that’s an interesting choice of words; ‘Culinary’.” I said, while pointing towards the wrinkled sausage. “Does this look culinary to you?”

Somehow, it seemed like he found this all very amusing. “Hold that thought” he said, as he reached up and took two bottles of sauce from the counter. He led me towards the nearest park bench to sit down. He had this grin on his face, like the look of confusion on my face seemed to be a delight in his day. With one hand he steadied my hand that was holding my hotdog, while with the other he put a considerable amount of undefinable sauce on my roll. 

“Now what you are about to have the privilege to eat, is the absolute best hotdog, you will ever taste in your whole life.” he explained, while he dosed up my hotdog with the other sauce as well. As he was done, he looked up at me. “A friend of mine, Tony, he owns this truck. He is a real magician with flavor. It’s all in the sauce.”

I raised my eyebrows at him “Am I supposed to be impressed?” 

“Oh Liv, you will be.”

“Neal” I deadpanned “It’s a one-dollar hotdog. There is a reason it’s just a one-dollar hotdog.”

As he topped his own roll with the sauce, he just looked so excited. Like a boy about to open his Christmas presents. The look of amusement on his face only increased, as my facial expression became more skeptical by the minute. 

“Come on. I know you’re not a picky eater. Try it.” 

I had become a bit curious about the hotdog. Not just whether it really was as good as he says, but also the story behind it. I waited to take a bite, until he finally took one. As I chewed my food, he expectantly looked at me. 

“Well?” 

I sighed, tilting my head, trying to look unimpressed, but bloody hell he was right. It was the best hotdog ever. No discussion needed for that statement. It might have looked like… well… not good, but the flavor. Perfection. 

I put my hand before my mouth, trying to empty my mouth before speaking. “Oh.. well.. you know.. it’s fine.” I said with a straight face. 

He squinted his eyes. “We played poker last night. I know what your poker face looks like alright. It’s not as good as you think.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah okay, it really is amazing, you were right. Guess you know a thing or two about food after all. Five minutes ago, I had lost all hope in you.” 

As I was about to take another bite of my hotdog, he suddenly reached out and gently took my chin in his hand. 

“What–?” 

Before I could finish my sentence, he carefully dabbed the corner of my mouth with his napkin. I presume the very generous amount of sauce he had applied, left a stain. I noticed the concentration on his face, while he cleaned mine. Trying to wipe off all of the sauce, but making sure not to ruin my lipstick, it was almost like his ritual of painting. The same concentration, the same precision. This particular moment made me think of a cheesy scene in, well…, every romantic movie that I’ve seen. There’s no way this actually works in real life, or is there. The concentration he put in this little movement surely incited this feeling of intrigue, like I experienced before. Could this be, what they mean in the movies?

“You okay?” he asked with pulling back his hand. 

I was kind thrown off guard by his sudden question. Not sure what he meant with it, I gave him my best confused expression. 

“You seemed pretty upset last night. You know… with me finding out about you..”

As much as I appreciated him making sure whether I was okay or not, I really don’t like the feelings talk. These situations make me return to my usual habits; better known as sarcasm.

“I’m eating the world’s best hotdog. How could I not be okay?”

“Liv, I’m being serious now.”

I started to lean back on the park bench, looking at the playing children on the swing set. 

“Yeah… I am too though.” 

He did not look convinced by my comment, so I bumped my shoulder against his, as a kind of reassurance. Except this seemed to make him look only more worried. I kinda felt where this conversation was going, so I turned my focus towards the children again. 

“I never had that, you know” I said, while pointing towards the laughing little kids. “My parents rather robbed banks than play with their child.” I paused to see his reaction but it did not seem to relieve him from his confusion. Honestly, I didn’t even know where I was going with this story. 

“Listen, nobody actually knows this kind of stuff about me. My name, my parents or that I’ve never sat on a swing set. Now you seem to figure things out rather quickly, so I don’t have another choice but to trust you with this. So yes, I am okay. Maybe not completely, but I will be, if it turns out that I can really trust you.” 

I could see he was about to answer, reassure me, tell me I could trust him. But gladly I was ahead of him. 

“And I know that you think I can, but I have to think that too. And that is gonna take some time.” I said, as I turned my head towards him. He nodded. Just nodded. He seemed to understand that trust doesn’t grow in just one night. 

I stood up from bench. “Shall we go back to the painting?” He stood up after me.

“Have you really never played with a swing set?” he asked laughing. That’s all it took. That one comment, to go from a serious conversation to usual selves, to the way we were accustomed to speak with each other. Somehow, Neal was the only person I could really do that with. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments :)


End file.
